


Mask

by YourFaithfulServant



Series: Blind!Robin (Mask Verse) [1]
Category: Teen Titans (Animated Series)
Genre: Batman is in one chapter besides flashbacks, Blind Character, Canon-Typical Violence, Child Abuse, Gen, Nightmares, Raven is a Good Bro, Self Confidence Issues, Self-Esteem Issues, anger issues, canon stuff, honestly most of it is Bruce's fault, mostly Slade just beating the crap out of Robin, sensory issues, slade is an asshole but what else is new, slight PTSD, the blind character is Robin, this is not really happy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-22
Updated: 2017-05-22
Packaged: 2017-12-20 21:58:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 16
Words: 17,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/892354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YourFaithfulServant/pseuds/YourFaithfulServant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's kinda funny actually, because some part of him is proud. Who knew, who knew that a blind acrobatic boy could do this? Could beat an entire team of superhumans in a matter of minutes? All the nonbelievers, all the teasing and playing helpless at Bruce's galas, none of that mattered because he'd proved it all wrong. He'd beat the odds.<br/>---<br/>It was surprisingly easy to hide that the famous Gotham Boy Wonder, Robin, is actually completely blind. Now on his own and leading the Teen Titans, he's chosen to keep his lack of sight a secret from even them. After all, he's certain they'd want nothing to do with him if they knew the truth. Who would?<br/>---</p><p>Starts out as drabbles, but slowly gets more and more of a plot as it continues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Before Robin

He remembered it well, his mother guiding him through the moves until he could nearly do it in his sleep. Her hands were calloused, yet gentle, her words patient and warm even when he made mistake after mistake. "You'll get it, my little robin," she would always say when his frustration would peak.

Most of all her voice stuck out in his memory. It was like a flowing river, each syllable gracefully sliding to the next. Her accent was slight, just enough to be noticeable, but it only added to the smoothness of her speech.

His father was stubborn. He arms were thinner than to be expected of a man, but underneath his skin were strong muscles like powerful wires. In other words, he was built to be an acrobat. This was something that his son inherited, and he took great pride in this. He was smart, every word thought about before leaving his mouth.

Unlike his wife, his hands would be most recalled. They were rough, something earned from his profession, but always so carefully, they maneuvered his son's tiny hands to the ropes. They were the hands that first taught him the joy of flying, the thrill of the wind rushing through his hair as he completed his routine.

He feared, that one day, he would forget these things about his parents.

He feared, that one day, his only memory of them would be the sickening cracks of bone and the strangled screams.


	2. Batman's Student

His next teacher has a deep, rumbling voice, like the feeling of gravel beneath bare feet. His hands seemed even rougher than how he remembered his father's, but would teach just as much. If not that, more.

His lack of sight is a disadvantage, the man tells him, but it can be turned into an asset. Most enemies can't function in the dark during a fight. Learning to recognize the sound of a fist, knife,or bullet is easy, but dodging one is harder. He learns to observe, but not with his eyes. (Footsteps to the right, slightly deafened, boots. Heavy steps, about 200-250 pounds, male. Combined with boots, probable body armor.)

After that, he learns to hit back while dodging, and his acrobatic skills benefit him. He flips and turns and punches and kicks. He throws and runs and rolls and jumps. He builds muscle, loses baby fat, and trains to use his hearing to evaluate the position of his enemies and surroundings.

It takes many years, but he achieves physical perfection.

The final lesson is secrecy. (Wear a mask, don't let your enemy know any weaknesses, no matter how insignificant it might be. Keep your identity under wraps, to keep the people you care about safe.)

"What is your new name?" (This is it, he's abandoning who he once was...)

"Robin." (...Even if it's just a nickname, one thing remains of Dick Grayson)


	3. Chapter 3

Robin smiled faintly, falling back onto the bed of his hotel room.

Letting out a content sigh, he fingered the corner of his mask and mused about the days events.

He'd really done it. He'd flown the nest. God, he wanted to laugh. No longer was he simply 'Batman's sidekick'. Today, he proved he was so much more. Without Batman's help, he and a ragtag group of superpowered people had defeated a threat. He was glad.

It wasn't as if being with Batman was so terrible. He just felt...like it was time. There had been more arguments lately, more and more often, the man worried more about him than the villains in Gotham, and not to mention how often the hero made his student feel like a misbehaving child. He had known the reason, he had always known the reason, (no one else could die, no one) but it was soon clear that this separation was the clear choice. That hadn't meant it wouldn't hurt any less.

But that was all behind him now, ancient history. This wasn't Gotham. This was Jump City, his chance for a new beginning.

Truth be told, he was planning to go solo for a while. A long while. Before gaining a team, he wanted to be sure they'd respect him and not treat him like a kid. But before he knew it, he had one, and was not only respected, but the leader.

The best part? They didn't know he couldn't see.

He'd learned to act like he could. He faced people when he heard them speak. He angled his head towards the window in moving cars. It wasn't hard.

The whole blind thing had worried his former teacher immensely. (What if you need to read something? What if you need to drive? What if-?) It was dumb, not telling them. Especially since Robin was usually so smart. But...this was his chance to be normal. Or at least, be treated that way.

No, this wasn't a good idea. Yes, it was going to bite him in the butt later on. But no, he wasn't going to change his mind. He'd decided.

For now, he would keep his little secret.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man, I've rewritten this three times and I still don't like it T.T
> 
> Oh well, here it is you guys. I hope it's okay.
> 
> Do any of you have ideas for what episodes might be interesting to put in Robin's perspective? Oh course, I'm going to write some scenes not in the show, but I think it would be fun to see how Robin deals in the battles we already have seen. I'm definitely going to do something with the Apprentice and The End episodes, but I need some more ideas. Also, should Robin's blindness be revealed all at once or to each Titan one at a time? I can't decide...


	4. Hypnosis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on the Episode "Mad Mod" Haha this is actually hilarious to me because it's longer than all my other chapters combined. I totally promise that there will be a point to this and it'll go somewhere, but the first couple more will basically be rewrites. And yeah... Sorry for not updating this for like three years

Admittedly, he’d been in worse situations, sadly enough, but this one had gotten him more angry than he had been in a long time.

  
From the beginning, he was unnerved, as the echoing sounds and such formed an impossibly, hazy room, and the instant their (British? Skinny yet tall too if his footsteps were anything to go by... and he almost hissed every time that cane hit the floor. He had one that he had to use outside of costume that he hated) captor called him and his teammates children... well, he wasn’t happy to say the least. That wasn’t what he’d come here to be treated like. Again.

  
(At least he has a name to the voice now. _Mad Mod_. Ha. Asshole name to fit the asshole himself)

  
Not to mention the whole restraints thing. He was as fond of that as the next person. Huge turn off in a new environment. If he was being honest, being blind did cause some behavioral changes. One being that he liked to explore his surroundings physically even if he could get a pretty good picture with sound alone. But he couldn’t here. What the he-

  
Oh damn. Hypnosis screen? Well, it could be worse. It could be something that could actually affect him. But he’d have to fake it, and he didn’t feel like doing it with his frustration and confusion. Luckily, his anger was something he didn’t have to fake, and he was relieved when his fingers were free and the clanging of metal against the hard floor told him it was something he could probably pick.

  
Then the humming of lasers and what was probably a large explosive by the smell. Great. Fantastic. But the thought that something was off didn’t even shake at that. Even the echoes of his own boots across the floor sounded wrong. Did he hit his head or mess with his ears or something? And if he couldn’t trust his ears, what could he trust? The truth was, he had nothing else to rely on... So he just followed the asshole’s footsteps and occasionally, figuring he couldn’t go wrong there, hoping to god he could just catch the man and get this over with. But then he somehow ended up falling and on the ground somehow where there should have been more stairs. God, this is bullshit. Complete bullshit. Did this even make sense to someone who could see? Fuck this.

  
The words he was now mentally repeating like a mantra where ones the Bat probably wouldn’t approve of, but at least he kept his cool outwardly, his usual wisecracks slipping from his lips and his fighting, almost challenging grin easily settling on his features. The last thing he wanted was for an enemy to see his frustration, much less guess the problem. He’d somehow hidden this from his teammates... it’d be humiliating for a villain, especially one so annoying, to find out his ‘disability’.

  
What seemed like a wild goose chase continued for far too long, until eventually he entered another room, and that man was gone. No breathing, no footsteps, nothing. His anger peaked, and for a moment rage froze his body and mind before Starfire’s scream caused him to regain his concentration. He followed the sound of her confused and defiant tone, trying to ignore the wrong things it was telling him. However, it was her sudden silence and the sound of crushing wood that truly got him afraid. He quickened his pace, focusing entirely on locating and then saving her. It was the scream that fully allowed him to find her, and from then on he swooped in and snatched her away from whatever was destroying from above.

  
After freeing her from that awful chair, he was no longer fearful of her safety and they urged forward, and just after he’d brushed off her apology, more weapons revealed themselves to him by their sound and smell. His irritation showed slightly this time, something he didn’t even regret later, but the surprisingly soft hand of his teammate pulled him away. Probably for the best, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t pissed as hell.

  
And then ah, the sudden scent of chemicals. He almost felt nauseous for a moment, unpleasant memories with completely different (much more dangerous) villains springing up internally, but they were instantly pushed to the back of his mind for later nightmares when Mad Mod’s voice and the endless groan of Beast Boy spiked his concern. Damn hypnosis screen... Though himself and Starfire had been able to avoid it, the young shapeshifter obviously had not. He was more worried than anything else, however. Who knew what kind of affect that had on the brain? Hopefully it was temporary... He didn’t know how he could forgive himself if it wasn’t. There were things he’d never dealt well with, and injury to his team was one of them.

  
His nimble fingers moved before his mind did to release the youngest of their group, and only stopped when the memory of what had happened before was triggered by the sound of Starfire’s starbolts powering up. Bad things happened with sources of energy and chemicals... But it was too late, and the sizzling of melting objects assured him of that fact. So Beast Boy went to Starfire, and he followed the sounds where the sizzling was the loudest (which meant that there was an object there) and followed that to where he remembered the door to be.

  
If Starfire’s attempts to wake Beast Boy didn’t work, he knew for a fact he couldn’t, and really it was hard not to wince at her loud yelling. It wasn’t her fault that his hearing was much better than most, not that she even knew that. So he just ignored it best he could, at least until she shouted so loud that he almost went deaf too, and then he heard footsteps and assumed the worst in his agitated state. He nearly kicked himself when it turned out to be Cyborg and Raven. He should have known better. He’d heard their footsteps many times before. But there was no time for regret in that moment, and Cyborg even awoke Beast Boy. He had nothing to complain about.

  
And then they had a plan.

  
That always made him feel better, especially in such an unpredictable place. Though he hated to say it, it was one thing that he got from the Bat that he was glad for. It had saved him and the other titans multiple times. Including now, hopefully.  
Then Beast Boy somehow got hypnotized again. Joy. Even better, the sound of shoes against the floor, a sound he was truly beginning to hate with all of his being, including the fact that it bounced off the walls in all the wrong ways. It continued to frustrate him.

  
And what he said… well, no matter what Mad Mod said, he wasn’t going to continue to play his stupid games.

  
Though he now had the titans on his side, it was just another wild goose chase. No matter what they tried or did, he slipped out of their fingers in ways that were just annoying and infuriating. All his training he’d just been taught logic and sense, and nothing that was happening here seemed to ignore all the rules of that.

  
And every time they failed, Mad Mod was there to shove it in his face with his snide comments, and then with almost a smug invite to challenge him… seeming to assume that they’d never win. And honestly? He was starting to feel that way too.

But he was a leader, and experience and desperation told him that fighting was the only option. Giving up was not.

  
Ignoring the things that did not make sense to his ears, he instead focused on what did, but it wasn’t perfect. He didn’t think he could have stopped himself from slamming into that wall even if his eyes did work.

  
They did their best, but one by one he heard the fighting begin to decrease, and he knew that one by one, they were being captured once more.

  
However, that didn’t matter, because lunging and having nothing there was enough to make everything fall into place.

  
It explained why the sounds were off, why they couldn’t win, why this place never seemed to end.It was all being controlled externally.

  
None of it was real.

  
He ignored the rockets whizzing behind him and jumped to where he could feel the cold air coming from (a tear), and jumped. Heated exploited from behind his boots but he paid it no mind, feeling for and pulling wires, following them to its source.

  
(It felt pretty good, actually. Very rarely did he get to destroy things like this)

  
The labored breathing and heavy footsteps screamed old man, and honestly he almost felt smug about that. A snapped threat was all that left his lips, however, and the sweet fresh air and hearing Mod get booked after the ride to the police station was enough to melt away the lingering anger.

  
He was still disappointed, however, though mostly at himself, and in his room later that night, he mulled over his own mistakes. He _knew_ something was wrong at the very beginning, but it still took him so long to figure out the truth. He just needed to trust his instincts… trust himself. He shoved headphones in his ear and frowned deeply as he listened to one of his audiobooks. He wouldn’t be sleeping tonight.

  
Research, he’d tell himself. That’s why. Research and planning.

  
(It’s too much to admit that Robin, Boy Wonder, is too afraid of his nightmares to sleep)


	5. Sight

_ You have to hide it. _

He remembers those soft but firm words whispered in the morning, the time of year when the heat was just starting to fade away and he could begin to feel the freezing winds moving in. He despised the feeling of it freezing his face and fingers. It was too much like the day his parents had climbed up the smooth railings to the platform (the one that had splintered his feet before they’d become calloused) and never came back down.

There is understanding between them, so there’s a warm crackling in the fireplace and the windows are closed tightly. But that does not make the statement come down any easier.

His throat closes at that, fists clenching.  _ Why?  _ He doesn’t understand. Can’t. Over and over, just as firm and just as quietly, the words he remembers are ones telling him that it didn’t matter. That his lack of sight was something that was now an advantage. But now...

The soft leather of the armchair he’d sat in now feels rough, and the material is almost too much. His shaking hands have to leave it and fold on his lap. He can hear and feel his own small breaths quickening as panic and anger swelled in his chest like a balloon.

_ It’s not what you think _ . This is said as a sigh. Almost disappointment but not quite. The frown on his own face deepens at that, and he can imagine the other’s face mirrors his own.  _ It’s not because of you. People will just take advantage of that. Villains. And everyone already knows that Bruce Wayne has taken in a blind child. You’re not stupid, Dick. You know what could happen. _

He wants more than anything to scream that it’s not about that. The need scratches at his throat like fingernails against chalkboard, and it’s all he can do to keep the outburst from exploding.

(His entire life, he’s worked so hard to not let his blindness define him, to show everyone that it didn’t stop him. That no matter what, he could still be everything that anyone else was. And now he wanted him to fake it.)

But he swallows it down. One, two, three. Let the emotions fade away. Logic and feelings didn’t mix. He could not trust his feelings, even at ten years old. 

_ I understand. _

Even if he despised everything about it, Bruce usually knew best.


	6. The Day That Just Continuously Got Worse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is definitely more past related than plot but... oh well. Finals are finally over and I thought I would continue. There will be a few more chapters before we start getting deep, so if anyone has some episodes they want to see, don't be afraid to suggest something.

Perhaps riding a motorcycle wasn’t his best decision as a blind teenager, but he did at least he did have some precautions set in place.

Though the motorcycle was built by Cyborg, the helmet was something he’d taken from home. It had been especially made for him by Lucius, and was just short of an AI with its description abilities and other features that helped him of all people get a clear picture. He didn’t think that Bruce would use it, so it was one of the few things he’d taken when he had skipped Gotham. It wasn’t the only thing he relied on when riding, as any technology could malfunction and fail, but it definitely did help. 

Of course, how much could that help when a spider person was running across buildings and skyscrapers?

The helmet buzzed instructions in his ears. With a small frown and a press he set the motorcycle on auto-fire. It was little things like that, tiny little things on the objects made for him by Cyborg, that caused some suspicion and something akin to butterflies to rise in his chest. But… But no. He couldn’t know. How could he?

After all, he’d spent years learning to hide his blindness.

That still didn’t stop that fear, however, the almost paranoid way of thinking that he no doubt had picked up from Bruce.

But that doesn’t matter. Everything is fine, absolutely fine. He ditches the motorcycle (doesn’t much help here), and it isn’t until after that is all absolutely goes to  _ shit _ . Next thing he knows he’s frozen, paralyzed, and would be as flat as a pancake if it wasn’t for Starfire the way he was falling.

Luckily, back at the tower, all it really takes to fix is some strange alien stretching by Starfire and he’s all ready to kick ass once more.

His good mood doesn’t last long.

Who knew giant  _ moths _ of all things could cause so much damage, more than the Titans could handle? He certainly didn’t, but it wasn’t like super-villains had ever really made much sense. And then the most annoying voice he has ever heard in his life reaches his ears, and despite Starfire’s (and his own) protests, he’s taking her to Prom.

He’s reminded of all those galas with Bruce, the way the tux scrapes against his skin and feels  _ wrong.  _ He’s always hated it. He can’t move like he wants -has to- in that. At least he doesn’t have to fake it with that stupid cane. The world may not know that Robin is blind, but they know that Dick Grayson is. Which means, yes- faking that he’s the poor little blind boy Bruce Wayne took in that can’t do anything for himself.

He doesn’t take off the mask. 

He quietly arrives by motorcycle, hands sore from gripping the handles so hard. Already, he hates this, hates the helpless situation, hates that girl with the annoying voice.

He isn’t paying attention until a finger taps his shoulder. Then his amazing sense of smell kicks in. He smells her, Starfire. She’s always smelled different, exotic. Like sunshine, if that makes any sense, and an almost burning smell, though subtle. He guessed it was from her star-bolts, but he never brought it up. He never knew if anyone else could detect it, after all. This time, however, perfume was mixed with that, and honestly it confused him a little.

However, there was only time for a brief moment of conversation before a honk and that  _ annoying goddamn voice _ interrupts everything. He walks over, humors her.

(God he hates this)

Especially as she touches him, he wonders if he’s ever actually loathed someone this much ever (Tony Zucco  _ does not count _ ), and though he’d never do so, he fantasizes about leaving her behind forever and taking down Killer Moth himself. But no.. he is just buying time for the Titans. This is their time to shine. He’s just the distraction. 

Not that that is easy  _ at all. _

He lies about being able to dance. He had enough of that shit with the galas. Then  _ finally _ . 

With the Titan’s finding of Killer Moth, he was free. Rejecting someone never felt so good.

Oh, and then  _ of course  _ Kitten (she had a name just as hard on the ears as her voice) had the button to release all the moths.

For a moment, it was fine. He managed to both avoid a kiss and grab the button. But then no, it couldn’t be that easy, so her ex-boyfriend turned out to be the weird guy with the spider head from before, and though he was stealing his own girl and was pissed off as hell. Yay.

He was suddenly glad Starfire had come, as she went after the girl as soon as Fang (was that his name?) attacked him. The fight was over fairly easily, as he now knew the only thing that would guarantee his own defeat, and Starfire passed over the button.

_ Consider yourself dumped _ , he told her as he crushed it under his shoe.

Her angry scream, and the capture of all three perpetrators involved, made everything worth it. And dancing with Starfire… that wasn’t that bad either...


	7. Choice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short 'nd sweet. Haha just kidding it's sad. And yes sorry forgot to spellcheck it when it was first posted! It's all good.

Honestly, the first time they all go to a restaurant, he kind of forgets. And then he panics.

Before, he would just ask for a braille menu (if they happened to have one) or Bruce (who knew what he liked) would give him a couple choices and he would pick one he wanted. But currently… neither of those would work right now.

Though anger still sparked at the thought of his now former mentor, he was glad for the skills in handling emotion that hid the nervousness he now felt. Though his heart thudded in his chest like a stomping elephant, his features held no tension. Completely relaxed and neutral.

_ They will see even the tinest shred of fear _ , he remembers the deep, quiet voice telling him.  _ Even if you can’t _ .

Something angry and frustrated sinks into his stomach. Still, the tumoral only swirls in his chest like a violent storm, and does not show at all externally. He thumbs the menu, his gloved fingers sliding over the laminated paper. He likes the feeling of it. It’s surprising though… a lot of textures tended to bother him… Lack of sight had given him extra ability in other senses, and also unfortunately had caused some sensitivity issues… not that he’d ever admit that to even  _ Bruce. _ But...

_ This is the perfect time to tell them,  _ his inner voice suggests.  _ Just drop it casually. Make it not a big deal. It’ll be fine. _

**_No,_ ** replies the cynic inside,  **_that’s insane. They’ll probably not want anything to do with you. Why would they? It’s a major disadvantage to be blind and they will probably not want to deal with that._ **

So he lets a smile develop onto his features and pretends to muse over the menu. When Starfire asks if he prefers the spaghetti or steak and what they taste like, the smile becomes real. He’s escaped this time, and offers to pay with a wave of his hand, knowing at least Starfire and maybe Raven and/or Beast Boy didn’t have any money.

When the waiter comes to take their order, he orders the spaghetti. He likes pasta, though nothing will ever be as good as Alfred’s cooking. But he’ll manage. He always does. And it isn’t that bad when he arrives either.

Too bad he was craving fish.


	8. Slipping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> short, but this is the first chapter that will lead into the plot :)

It’s one of those nights that he can’t sleep and his fingers run over the deep scratches Slade left in his bo staff that he gets desperate.

In a moment it becomes too much and he stands, face dripping in a cold sweat as he grips the cool metal of the table of his study, hands shaking uncontrollably as he attempts to gain control. Anger and frustration boil in his stomach in a way only… Only  _ he  _ could.

“I don’t need him, not at all,” he whispers before standing, fists clenching so hard it nearly draws blood. He knows so well because he’s done it so many times in fits of rage and fear, (fingernails clawing through the palms of his hands-) and if he’s careful he can keep the pressure from overcoming the skin. (Less questions)

(Besides, he hates the way the blood feels against his skin, sticky and wet and thick, but in this job he feels it way too much, and god forbid he complain-)

He forces a deep breath to fill his lungs, before dropping into the smooth, treated leather of his chair. His fingertips ran over the texture again (this one is okay…) and again in an attempt to calm himself. His breathing eventually regulated, and for a moment that nervousness lingered. His fingers paused.

A idea formed in the back of his mind, and as he leaned forwards it was brought to the forefront. An unsettling calm settled as he stood again. 

“I don’t need Bruce, or  _ anyone _ , to take down Slade,” he murmured darkly, walking over to the computer.

“First thing’s first… Computer, search all databases for xenothium…”


	9. Red X

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ohh my god this chapter is super long and probably a mess but it took me forever and it's way too much to just throw away so yeahhh i apologize for this chapter and hope you can forgive me

Honestly, he really, really didn't want to use the suit so quickly after he'd finished it. He was fully, completely planning to be smart about this. Wait until a good time.

A time where he could finally get close to Slade… and take him out.

Then, the microchip incident happened.

It was going fine, like normal. Them winning like always seemed inevitable, as sure as the earth continuing to turn every moment, as sure as the sun shining down heat every morning.

(As sure as Bruce never apologizing that-)

 _Dick, this is really not the time to think about Bruce,_ he tells himself as he follows the scent of smoke, the footsteps of the slightly frazzled Titans close behind. For not the first, or last time, hot anger bubbles in his chest. Slade would not win today. He wouldn't allow it.

The echo of the tile beneath his feet as he stops tells him there's five tunnels. Perfect for five Titans. His team is strong and can handle themselves, and as he yells for them to split up he knows this. Besides, it is honestly a little easier. Knowing there was no one to wait for him to mess up, wait for them to _know_. His blindness isn't noticeable even when he's alone and therefore relaxed about such things, but his paranoia was the norm with his former mentor, and no matter how many times he told himself he was not his anymore, that he was his own person and own hero, some things can't ever be forgotten.

He groans when the roar of water screams in his ears. He hated water, because once he was under he was useless. He could barely hear anything, his main method of 'seeing', and even someone who had sight got disoriented very quickly. All he really was able to do was let himself float to the surface. With his head above water, he was fine… It was just when it wasn't that left him in a panic.

But this was okay. It was shallow, as these tunnels could not be that wide or tall to house anything other, and low if the pitch it created told him anything (it did). He jumped down, grimacing at the way it soaked his legs up to his knees, but he'd known worse in Gotham. God, he hoped he wasn't getting soft…

Then, the sound of moving water, splashing. It increases, and he's traveled in enough water that he knows that indicates running. He follows at the same pace, and as he does his face calms into an emotionless expression. His walls soundlessly come up, and his mind focuses on one thing: the chase.

He dodges what must be a laser as the sound rings through the small tunnel, and at the sound of the running throws a birdarang. Disappointment rises as he hears it clatter against the wall and fall into the water.

His only thought is _oh fuck!_ as the sound of an explosion rings out, and he steps back from the falling rocks. Hesitant footsteps, then purposeful ones echo before that laser sound again, and away he hears the sound of more earth falling, and the sudden rush of air. His fists clench, and he opens his mouth to speak when he hears her voice.

Starfire.

But his heart drops as the laser sizzles again, and that voice stops. Her voice stops.

His fingers find the edges of the rock and push it apart with strength he doesn't even know he has, and he's jumped out the hole into the open air before he can even think. Down, one of his grappling hooks goes to where he can hear her falling, and up the other goes to the subtle hum of the rocket boots his enemy wears.

He is relieved when the pull of Starfire's body (lifeless, oh god) tugs on the rope, and then they're both suddenly pulled upwards as the line found his target above. All on instinct. A moment later, he thinks that was a bad idea. A very bad idea.

He wasn't even ashamed to say he screamed as he was dragged along by Slade's minion across the surface of the water.

 _Should've just grappled the rock_ , he thinks angrily. But even then he can't find it in himself to be angry about it. Letting that microchip get away wasn't an option, even if he didn't know what Slade wanted it for.

Especially since he didn't know what Slade wanted it for.

But land came quickly, and as he dragged Slade's man up for interrogation, he was relieved to hear his teammate sputter water in the background ( _life_ ). But as he demanded answers, that relief faded away when the mask he ripped off heavied, (it was fucking metal) and Slade's cool voice drifted from were the face should be of the person, no, robot he was holding, and his own voice faded away.

Oh look, there it was, that sick fucking approval fell from the villain's lips. _I don't want it from you_ , he thinks venomously as a disgusted 'Slade' exited his own vocal chords. More approval, and then criticism, and then the asshole cuts off the conversation. The robot falls apart, so he doesn't even have that to analyze.

Despite that, he still locks himself away.

 _I don't have a choice,_ he realizes, freezing. The only thing he hears is the thud of his accelerating heartbeat in his ears. _If I don't do it now, who knows what he'll do_.

There's no time. No time to fully construct a good plan, to practice until the point of convincing with the Titans. And maybe he shouldn't. _They won't fight me like they'd fight a real villain._ Slade was always one step ahead of them. If he wanted to fool him… He couldn't take any chances. It'd be more realistic if they thought he was just a normal enemy. If they didn't know it was their friend under the suit… No way they'd pull their punches.

So he doesn't tell them.

It's laughably easy to tape himself trapped, laughably easy for him to record himself giving orders. He almost doesn't like how easy. But those thoughts he pushes away, because they aren't supposed to be his focus. He _needs_ to capture Slade. Then… then he'd be okay again. He'd be less angry. He can relax, maybe. Yeah.

His fists clench so tightly, even through his gloves he almost breaks skin.

(Starfire comes in. Her voice is concerned as she asks if he wants to take a break, watch a movie. He pushes her away. He'll apologize when this is all over. He doesn't much like movies anyway. The sounds are always wrong and not realistic and therefore he can never tell what's happening. It sucks.)

This time, he plays the part of villain, and it's not that hard.

He distracts the guards. Even blind, playing with their security system is a piece of cake with his specially designed computer, and the door closes and he drops in before they can even react. He knows where the chip is, memorized it from last time, and swipes it. When the guards charge back in, a simple press of his belt, filled with xenothium, blends him into the surroundings. An invisible chameleon, he disappears into the vents.

The xenothium core, though incredibly dangerous, was genius to use in a suit like this. Its effects on matter were unparalleled, and its abilities to look like he might have some sort of power were even more valuable. The less he seemed himself, the better. He didn't want anyone to even suspect.

And of course, as soon as he climbs out he meets the Titans.

He'd set his message to play just a moment before, and it seemed like brilliant timing. This part… This part isn't so fun. He doesn't like this, fighting his team. Being on the other side of Starfire's starbolts, Cyborg's cannon, Raven's telepathic abilities and Beast Boy's shapeshifting, but he can't be captured. One by one, he knows their weaknesses, and one by one they succumb to them. One by one, he takes them down. Red X takes them down, and blends into the horizon.

It's kinda funny actually, because some part of him is proud. Who knew, who knew that a blind acrobatic boy could do this? Could beat an entire team of superhumans in a matter of minutes? All the nonbelievers, all the teasing and playing helpless at Bruce's galas, none of that mattered because he'd proved it all wrong. He'd beat the odds.

But he shouldn't be proud, because these are his friends.. And he never wanted to hurt them. But they're strong. They'll be fine. He didn't really actually hurt any of them, just incapacitated. So it was okay. It was for a greater cause. Besides, it's only once.

He contacts Slade. It's not only once, because Slade wants more from Red X. He doesn't want to, but… He's gone this far. Red X accepts.

It's not that hard to look remorseful, because he truly is. He feels bad causing them pain (though Beast Boy's constant complaining was beginning to become annoying), but as Starfire assures him, they're all fine. No lasting damage.

However, Red X would strike again, and this time, it wouldn't be so easy.

Last time, he'd had the element of surprise. Knowing their weaknesses, acting on them, it was a shock. But it wouldn't work twice, and he couldn't use the same tactics either. And god forbid he made any of them suspicious.

He records a couple more decoys, but this time does the opening message live. He couldn't dare to give any indication that anything that was being done was anything but. He has plenty of time to get to become Red X once more, and plenty more to fully set up. It's a play, sure, but most of the actors don't know they're part of a script. It's risky, but… It's the only way. They'll be angry, but… Slade's capture, that madman off the streets, was far worth any pain on himself.

On cue, they arrive, and the performance begins.

His hologram does its job, and they chase. He tries his old tricks, hoping that was all he'd have to do, but it's obvious that they know better. Despite that little bump, he dances with them in the way only a skilled martial artist can, only a skilled acrobat can. It's going great until Beast Boy falls into the tracks, and a train approaches.

No facade or plan is worth his teammate's life, so despite the fact he knew he was being watched, he saves him anyway. Then, he kicks Beast Boy away, avoiding the confusion, and escapes.

His heart stops when Slade tells him he watched through security cameras, even though he knew that was probably occurring. But the mask hides his features, and he hears nothing in Slade's voice that indicates he knew, so he relaxes. But Slade still wants more. Another chip. Last one, he's promised.

( _Patience_ , he says. God, how he's learned to hate that word. And god, god please, don't find out.)

Finally, he'll take him down. _Finally_ , he thinks with all three chips in hand.

Slade works him up with a short speech and promises, and he's _so close_. But of course, that's when it all went to shit.

A whole army, a whole fucking army was there. And he didn't hear a thing. Fuck robots, seriously. And then look, the chips were gone, now in Slade's fingers. Then, if it couldn't get any worse, the Titans fall from the ceiling with smoke that filled his confused lungs.

Then, in a brilliant clusterfuck that couldn't have gone any worse the Titans go after him instead of Slade, and in a last ditch effort, he's forced to reveal the truth.

"It's _me_!"

The truth that Slade had known all along.

Cyborg loosens his grip enough he can escape, run after Slade, and in mid run he discards the Red X uniform. Back in his familiar household-name suit, he's free to chance after the true enemy here.

Keeping up was a matter of his acrobatics training. Even if he wasn't blind, heights were something he doubted he'd be afraid of. He'd been taught to walk on a tightrope, after all.

"Careful, I wouldn't want you getting hurt."

It sounds like his mother. So much he wanted to strangle him then and there.

They talk more. He starts to sound like Bruce, and that really sparked anger.

"Don't lecture me!"

It isn't like fighting Bruce, or really anyone for that matter. Even the villains of Gotham he doesn't remember being this difficult in hand to hand combat, but back then he'd had- no. _No, focus_.

He needs to focus because he isn't dodging the punches and kicks fast enough, because they're connecting and his own aren't, and honestly he's getting his ass beat. It's a new feeling, and not one he likes.

And then Slade grabs his fist, punches the air out of his lungs and flips him, and he's disoriented and not paying attention to wear he hears the edge of the building, because suddenly he's falling.

(just like them-)

But then a hand grabs his wrist. Saves him.

"I'm not through with you-"

He almost wins. Pulls off the mask. But of course, nothing is that easy.

Like before, it's a robot, with the cool voice of Slade. A shorter message this time, but it evens out in terms of being an asshole because it fucking blows up.

He ends up with more questions than answers, and almost loses his friends.

One by one, this time they come to him. Yell for a while, rant. It hurts his hypersensitive ears, but he deserves it. He broke their trust. He lied to them. And for what? They'd learned nothing. He'd learned nothing.

More than any of them hated him, he loathed himself.

Starfire comes last. She doesn't yell or rant, her words soft and concerned. But hers… Hers was the worst. Worse than any angry word or thought could ever be.

"You and he are similar. He did not trust you...and you did not trust us."


	10. Sorry

It’s four forty five in the morning when the thought slyly slips in.

_Maybe you should ask for help._

It’d been almost three days since the Red X incident, and he’d barely left his room. He’d eaten twice at most, and only left those two times to quickly grab enough to keep him alive and to briefly go to the bathroom. The only other time he did was for missions, and there’d only been one incident of a minor villain playing around. It hadn’t taken much to beat him. Right after, he’d gone right back to his room.

Why should he do anything but? He messed up. Big time. He allowed himself to be manipulated and pulled along like a marionette doll, all while hurting his friends and breaking their trust. He forgot how fragile that was sometimes, and look where that had gotten him. All of them were now angry with him (except Starfire, but her disappointment was worse) and they had a right to be. He’d underestimated his enemy and he’d underestimated his team.

Maybe he was in over his head.

Maybe he’d been wrong. Maybe he hadn’t been fit to be a leader after all. Maybe… Maybe he needed….

_Bruce._

He’d know what to do about Slade. He’d know how to beat him, know how to get the information to. Even now, after months of battling him, he still knew nothing. Not his motives, his weaknesses, or any viable information whatsoever. It seemed like Slade knew his every move even before he thought about making it. Even physically, he was outmatched.

In seemingly every way, he was outmatched.

But Bruce had to battle enemies such as the Joker and Two-Face and many, many more. He’d done this kind of thing thousands of times. But Dick, by himself… He’d never had to face an adversary like Slade.

But then again, there was the humiliation of dragging himself back to Bruce, like some elementary student who’d run away from home, and admitting he realized he couldn’t do this on his own. Admitting he wasn’t strong enough. Taking back all the angry words he’d screamed at that last time they’d spoken, and falling back under Bruce’s command once more. He could already hear the judgemental, all too calm, deep tone.

But if he beat Slade… If he took him out all by himself, it’d prove his strength. It’d prove that a kid or not, he could be his own hero. That… that _blind_ or not, he can hold his own. If he could prove that, not only to Bruce but to himself. But could he even…?

His hands, void of the gloves at the moment, tightened on the soft sheets. Usually, the texture would calm him (which is why he chose it to sleep on) but right now… Right now the turmoil inside was too much to calm with touch alone.

“ _God_ ,” he said as he stood, desperation and hysteria clawing at his throat. No apologies could fix the relationship he had with his team (what would he even say?), and right now he didn’t know if all the determination in the world could beat Slade. He was backed into a corner that he had no idea how to get out of, and the worst part was that he’d put himself there. It was _his_ actions that-

His fist collided with the wall, and under the force the small part of wall his hand had made contact with caved. Drywall and dust caught in his lungs, and he fell to his knees. It was a moment later that the pain and the sticky, thick liquid running down his arm registered.

“ _Dammit_ ,” he choked as he leaned his forehead against the cool wall, eyes closing as something wet began to run down his face. Sobs quietly echoed from his throat as blood from his fingers dripped rhythmically onto the floor.

Two hours later, he stood, wordlessly slipped on his gloves, and walks out of his room into the living room in search of the other Titans.

(It would just alienate him more from the team. He would _not_ be Bruce. He was better than that. He'd apologize the only way he knew how.

Besides, he _couldn’t do this anymore._ )

“I’m sorry.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this was super depressing and I am very sorry but it's also a thing that needed to be done. There was never really anything in the show about them healing from what happened... and those kinds of missing scenes are important to me, at least. Anyway, hope you enjoyed!


	11. Chapter 11

He was eleven the first time he was kidnapped.

It was after school on a Tuesday, one of those days in between seasons, cold winds blowing out hot summer sun.

It was definitely windy that day, and he was cold. One hand grasped around the strap of his backpack and was curled around his cane, the other rubbing his arm in attempt of warmth, his fingers running over the raised goosebumps. The jacket in his backpack was _wrong, wrong, wrong,_ however, so despite the cold he wouldn't wear it.

(Bruce… he probably wouldn't understand his… texture problem. So he didn't say anything)

He took a deep breath and let the tip of his cane (god, he hated it. He didn't need it anymore. It was just for show) drop to the floor as he finally moved past the school doors. Time to pretend… At least he was almost done… When he got back to Wayne Manor, no one treated him like-

Heavy footsteps echoed behind him, and they weren't Bruce's.

His fingers tightened on the cane, and by his side, his other fist clenched. It was then he was far too aware of the sudden silence, realizing that the other kids had already left. He was alone.

Which would be fine, if he was Robin.

But he wasn't. He was Dick Grayson. Blind, child ward of Bruce Wayne. Defenseless. Weak. An easy target. Something Bruce and himself had forgotten in the whirlwind of crime fighting and training, because in reality he was capable of protecting himself. Perfectly capable, despite what most people would consider a disability.

Perfectly capable, but still he had to act surprised when that cloth forced itself over his mouth.

"That was too easy," a deep voice chuckled as the sounds and feelings began to fade out.

 _Wrong, wrong, wrong,_ was all he could think as the cane dropped from his fingers. _That texture is wrong._

* * *

 As the haze of unconsciousness, that same deep voice penetrated..

"No bodyguards, nothing!" the man chuckled. "Probably the easiest job we've ever had!"

He didn't move or change his breathing whatsoever as he woke. It was always better to assess first.

His face and chest throbbed, and there was something tight and solid around his wrists. Not handcuffs, because it was not cold or warm. Plastic, if he had to guess, zipties. It'd been common recently in crime, and him and Bruce had noticed it often. The telltale texture of wood pressed against his bare arms, and though he couldn't feel what was pressing against his back through his t-shirt, through deductive reasoning he had to guess he was bound to a chair.

"When you're right, you're right Jimmy!" another voice boomed, and he almost flinched from the sudden, loud noise. "...and fucked up kids like that are the best for ransom. Think Wayne would know better than to take in a kid like that."

"And leave 'em unguarded."

"When you think about it," began 'Jimmy', "...we're actually doin' the kid a favor. Better he get picked up by us than some murder or whatever."

"Ahahaha, imagine some kid like that against Joker!"

He wanted to laugh, because he'd done that and was just fine.

"Oh yeah, Joe, he'd be dead and then what would Wayne do? Prob'ly just pick up some other kid. The only reason he got this one is 'cause of the publicity."

Okay, honestly that one kind of hurt, and that's when he decided it was time to 'wake up'.

He groaned and lifted his head, false fear settling on his features.

"Oh, well mornin', Sleeping Beauty."

"W-What? Who are you? Where am I?" He weakly struggled against the bonds. Oh, what a show.

"Never mind that. You'll be back home as soon as Wayne pays up, rich boy." The amount self satisfaction in 'Joe''s voice was disgusting. " 'Til then, you'll be havin' a nice time with us."

"Y-You won't get what you want!" He allows his bottom lip to tremble slightly, his unseeing eyes wide in alarm.

"I think we will." This time, 'Jimmy' spoke. He let something like fearful acceptance crumple his face. He knew there was no possibility of them getting anything but arrested.

Somewhere above, something creaked.

The men just continued talking. It was funny, the criminals never noticed.

"Anyone ever tell you your eyes are weird, kid? Almost look normal. 'Cept they don't focus. Not all gray and weird like on cop shows."

He didn't reply, just frowning worriedly. Endless voices repeating the same phrase echoed through his mind. Yeah, _a couple times_.

"Hey kid, you hear the question? Or are you reta-" He didn't get to finish as there was a sudden thump and crack. Something heavy hit the floor. Silence.

"Jimmy! Oh god, Bat-" He didn't get to finish either, as footsteps ran forward, and another thump. Another something heavy hitting the floor.

"They're out cold, Dick." Bruce didn't sound worried, but he liked to believe that he had been. Even if it was just a little bit. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine." He squirmed in his bonds. "Just get me out of this. I just want to go home."

"You sure? You look a little bruised," Bruce continued as he cut him free. There was a frown in his voice.

"I'm really okay. I don't remember them hitting me. I think they probably just threw me in a trunk or something and I got a little roughed up. But we both know I've had worse." He stood and rubbed his aching wrists. "Let's just go."

Without his own grappling hook, Bruce would have to carry him home, or at least to the Batmobile. Bruce didn't even need to tell him that.

"Okay. Hold tight."

Alfred had a hot cup of tea and a warm fire waiting for them, and it was a nice something he didn't even know he needed. Alfred always knew exactly what he needed... It almost made up for the times Bruce didn't.

( _"Why weren't you wearing your jacket, Dick? It was pretty cold out."_

" _Forgot I had it, I guess. Sorry. "_ )

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haven't had a flashback for a little while, so here we go. Since the next couple chapters will be especially Robin and Slade centric, I thought something with Bruce would fit as well. Well, anyway the Apprentice episodes are next! There might be a flashback chapter between them, I haven't decided yet, but Part 1 will definitely be the next chapter. They're some of my favorite episodes, so they will most likely be longer.


	12. Apprentice Part I

In the beginning of his dream, there was running.

His heartbeat thudded loudly in his ears like a drum as his boots hit the loose, gravelly soil. In front of him, another pair of footsteps. Heavier. Larger.

Slade.

The chase wasn’t hard, almost too easy to keep up with as they jumped and skidded and sprinted across the rock, but still his temper swelled in his chest like a big, angry balloon. There was something, always something, that had rubbed him the wrong way about Slade, much more than any other villain he’d faced.

Maybe it was the intelligence. Maybe that condescending tone as he lost track of the other (“You must be very eager to see me. I’m _flattered_ .”) and then his own counter as Slade’s footsteps sealed his understanding of the villain’s position (“I’m not here to see you, I’m here to _stop_ you!”), or possibly just every way that Slade treated him like an inferior, like a toy. Like a _child_. Even the thought or mention of Slade irritated him in a way no one else ever could. It was beyond frustrating.

Is this how Bruce feels with Joker? he wonders. (But him and Bruce still aren’t talking.)

They exchange some more insults, Slade’s words grinding on his patience and tolerance, and therefore his moves become more reckless. He can feel it, he can certainly tell his movements are becoming less erratic and controlled, but he’s too angry to care. Beneath his fists and feet and blocked weapons, the rock formations around become rubble. Dust from the fallen earth rose up and caught in his lungs, and for a tense few motions he heard only Slade’s voice drifting over the silence, from no clear point of origin. Then, there it was. He turned to face the voice.

“We’re so very much alike.” His blood boils.

“I’m nothing like you!” he exclaims as a birdarang leaves his fingers, and he is pleased to hear Slade’s grunt, fall, and the ring of metal against metal as it impacts.

“You’re a criminal, a psychopath! All you care about is destruction,” he continues as his gloved fingers roughly pull Slade to a sitting position from the ground.

“And all you care about, you destroy,” is the calm response, and suddenly the too familiar shapes he’d felt as he’d needlessly destroyed comes together in his mind. His friends. The Titans.

“No! Who are you?” Something catches in his throat, and quickly he pulls off the mask, and suddenly his own voice fills the air, laughing, laughing like _Slade-_

He wakes up in a cold sweat, the laugh still ringing in his ears as he breathes through his panic. Just in time, as Cyborg enters his room.

“It’s him. It’s Slade.”

* * *

 

No one needs to know about the nightmare. He cleans up quietly and enters their living room with a stoic expression. Beast Boy’s complaints don’t even register as Slade’s condescending remarks wash over him like a cold unwanted rain. Hot fire burned in his chest, and throughout the exchange, only burned hotter with each word, each word that tested the limits of his patience… and temper.

Only a few words of his annoyance passed his lips before Slade interrupted him, and with those words that remaining fire was instantly extinguished, replaced with cold as freezing as those winter Gotham nights.

 _A chronoton detonator._ Bruce had insisted he’d learn many diverse things (which he was now really beginning to appreciate, not that he’d admit it) and one of the many after school lessons centered around doomsday weapons- conceivable objects that were either attempted or planned and could end life on Earth. A chronoton detonator was easily one of the most dangerous of them. Time would stop forever if it was activated, and there would be no way of changing it. That was it. Done. Game over.

If that was Slade’s plan, he didn’t have any time to waste. The quick conversation that followed suit barely registered with the warning bells going off in his head as he demanded answers. Of course, Slade didn’t give them. And the promise of a detonator between his gloved fingers the entire time made the whole situation that much more dire.

“Fan out. Find it. Shut it down.” And just like that, he was in planning mode. Another side effect from Bruce, but he didn’t mind it in this moment. Short and to the point orders were needed when time was running out.

Or, as Slade said, ‘not on their side’.

But then there was the sudden echo of two bodies blocking his path, and his jaw set.

“Hey, uh, maybe you should stay here and… coordinate the search,” Beast Boy suggested. Nervous, nervous words, and they should be, because annoyance fizzled in his chest like sparking electricity. However, another emotion flickered, and that was the one that was conveyed in his response

“What?” Confusion. This time, it was Cyborg that spoke.

“Man, when it comes to Slade, you got issues.” Okay, _true_ , but that was beside the point. “It might be better for the team if you sit this one out.”

Honestly, he did consider it for a few moments, because there was truth behind those stinging words. But…

“No, there’s too much at stake for me to-”

“Robin… We have not forgotten the last time you faced-” No, no no she _did not_ just bring that up. That was unfair. The earlier negative feelings shot back up like lava from a volcano.

“I made a mistake, Starfire! It won’t happen again.” He didn’t mean for the words to come out like a hiss, like grinding metal to his tuned ears, so his voice softened as he continued. “I can handle it, I promise.”

Of course, Raven, the everlasting voice of reason, then spoke.

“Then would you at least like to know where to look?”

It was in these moments how he was reminded that no matter how much he wanted to pretend he could do things on his own and would be fine as a lone superhero, it was nice to have some seeing people around. He never would have been able to know where to look. Something like a reflection is lost on him, and always would be.

But it was detective work, a huge part of being heroes. Raven and Bruce would probably get along great. Too bad the thought left a sour taste on his lips.

* * *

 

Pier 41 seemed just like every other seaside port he’d visited, which had surprisingly and unsurprisingly been a lot.

Though the scent of the sea didn’t really bother him, the stench of rotting fish and other sea creatures seemed to permeate every inch of wood, steel, and even the air, and he _hated_ it. It was disgusting and inconceivable how no one else was ever bothered by it. It was all he could do to keep such emotions off his features. Luckily he’d had more than enough practice.

But despite appearances, they took every precaution approaching the building. Their quiet footsteps were still more than noticeable to him, but normal people relied way too much on their eyes. They never noticed the obvious, telltale signs until they were already on the ground, losing consciousness.

At least, until Cyborg blew in the door.

At first, it seemed like there was nothing. No sounds of breathing, empty echoes, but the hum, the steady hum, of _something_. He was about to speak when, suddenly from the ceiling, rushes of air, and immediately after the sounds of metal footsteps hitting the ground. The too-light and off-center weighting indicated by such noise meant robots. A lot of robots. And yes, that meant he could use more force than usual.

That probably didn’t excuse him from using _quite_ that much force.

As he jumped, kicked, and punched, his temper slowly rose. Every impact, he was imagining Slade receiving instead of his seemingly endless roar of electronic lackeys. Effortlessly, that man made him more frustrated and on edge than he had ever been before, and even that fact alone was enough to piss him off.

That anger took over, and honestly for a few minutes he just let it took over. One minute, the fight was just starting, the next, Starfire’s warm, strong hands secured around his arm and fist.

(It would probably be so easy for her to break them, wouldn’t it? Just one movement and snap, and like a bird’s wing his bones would splinter and shatter. A true Robin. It’d be so easy for her. He didn’t like to think this way, but sleep deprivation had taken its toll.)

(Everything was perceived as a threat. Even _her_.)

He was stuck in his mind again. He only heard the last part of her sentence.   
“-we are victorious!” she said, her tone rising in an attempt for some hopefulness, some misguided way of calming him. He knew she was trying, and he cared, but at this point it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. Not until-

“Slade’s got his finger on the button, and we’ve got nothing! Does that sound like a victory to you?” He walked away before any of them could reply. He’s glad none of them do. He suddenly had a headache, and any sound felt like they were going at his head with a cheese grater. Very pleasant.

Plus, the whole fish-death smell was still disgusting. He was worried it wouldn’t come out of his suit after this. Fuck. Another thing to blame Slade for. Fantastic.

The next part… He was not really proud of. Even while he was doing it.

Shoving an innocent against the wall and interrogating him like a hardened criminal? Not his best moment. He had never really particularly enjoyed witnessing Bruce do such things, and he hated the fact his team had watched him do it.

(He was in mental freefall, and they _knew_ it.)

Of course an argument ensued. Even when Starfire’s sneeze was far too loud, like a bomb exploding between his ears, it still broke the tension. Not to mention she turned out to be a living, breathing tracker for metallic chromium, otherwise known as the key element of a chronoton detonator.

Two blessings in one. At least they had that.

She seemed utterly miserable, and he wasn’t incredibly happy about standing in water once again, but it seemed like as good time as any for an apology.

But then there was a boat. And a robot. He was angry at himself for not paying attention to his surroundings enough, for being too focused on his own thoughts. That was a dangerous game to play.

Especially when one was blind.

It served him right to be shoved into a wall, and straight into hand-to-hand with Cinderblock. However, despite Cinderblock’s rough, seemingly impenetrable rocky exterior, he’d done this before. It was just a matter of distract and attack, something he’d perfected long before he’d formed the Teen Titans. It’d been the initial purpose of Robin while with Batman.

But this wasn’t about Bruce.

It didn’t take long before the villain was passed out on the ground, and before he could even get a question (demand) out, there was slow, steady beeping. He moved towards the direction of it, and peeled away five thick, tough fingers. He swiped the device, and as he moved the beeping increased and decreased. On the back of the device, his gloved fingers traced a raised insignia… a circled S.

A smirk stretched across his face.

* * *

 

The beeping was a rather simple method. The more it increased, the faster his own heartbeat thudded in his ears. Finally, he would get to meet that man in person. The criminal who had caused so much trouble, the adversary that had eluded them -him- so _cleverly_ , that had treated him so condescendingly.

Finally.

He blew open the wall, despite the wave of pain that resulted from his lingering headache. It didn’t matter. When he arrested Slade, he could rest all he needed. Maybe… maybe sleep finally.

(But could he even rest, knowing he was still alive, knowing he could always escape? But no, no no, that was a bad way of thinking, bad-)

But luckily (or perhaps unluckily) Slade didn’t give him time to think. A quick conversation, more of an exchange of insults, really, before he placed the detonator in an open space.

“If you want it, take it.”

It wasn’t going to be that easy. He knew it. Slade knew it. So they both went right to it.

He would lunge, Slade would kick or punch him out of the way, and then some smartass comment before engaging him in battle once more. But it wasn’t really battle. Slade was treating it like a game, almost boredly dodging the younger’s attempts of hits, and his already unstable temper was dangerously rising with each degrading comment. Slade was kicking his ass, without even breaking a sweat.

He knew it. Slade knew it.

His chest hurt from what would probably form bruises, and his arms and legs were sore from all the falling and exchanging blows. It hurt to breathe. He was faltering, and Slade was still just as calm as when he walked in. His breathing wasn’t even faster. Just slow, and calm.

It should have made him suspicious. But it just made him angry. He punched the ground. It just caused more pain in his hand and didn’t ease his emotions, but it seemed like the only thing he could do. Slade’s slow, metallic footsteps walked closer.

“I understand your frustration, Robin,” he spoke coolly. The smug bastard. “You hate losing just as much as I do. One of the many qualities we have in common.”

In that moment, he sensed an opening. Slade’s breathing was even slower than before. He was relaxed. He thought he’d already won.

The feeling of his fist against the mask was nothing short of thrilling, even as pain shot up his arm. His fingers would definitely be tender for a while. But it was worth it. He hadn’t landed a single shot the entire fight- and he’d caught the older off guard and landed three! And then more and more. Only when the entirety of Slade’s weight clattered to the floor (like the limp doll he himself had been before) did he walk over to the detonator. It felt surprisingly light in his fingers.

“On the contrary, Robin...”

And then fell apart.

“This is only the beginning.”

“Where’s the real trigger?!”

A feeling started to settle in his throbbing chest. Like dread, like anxiety, but a thousand times worse.

“Trigger? There is no trigger, because there is no detonator.”

He was stupid. He was so fucking stupid, because a villain like Slade would have never revealed his plan like that. His anger and obsession had taken over, and only now did he find out the truth. He should have been on this the moment Slade had spoken to them, but no, because he was a fucking distracted idiot.

(Bruce would be so disappointed. Not that his approval mattered at all)

“Nanoscopic probes. The chronoton detonator was merely the bait for a much larger trap.”

 _Probes, probes, probes._ Bruce had talked about these. And yeah, asshole, he’d figured that. But he didn’t speak, his jaw closed in angry defiance.

“You see, with a push of a button, my probes will destroy your friends. From the inside… out.”

“You can’t control them. No matter what you threaten them, they’ll never obey you.” He was proud of them. They were strong. Never afraid to question him. It was annoying sometimes, sure, but they weren’t aimless sheep. No, they were brave and incredible, and would go their own way if they needed to. But they were also a seamless team, and they all shared a bond that he could have only dreamed of before this.

“This isn’t about your friends, Robin. It’s about you.” Oh. _Oh._ In all of his obsessions with Slade, he never imagined that-

“It’s _always_ been about you.” -he was just as obsessed with him as he was with Slade. And from experiences with Joker and his frank, obvious infatuation with Batman… he knew that undivided, special attention was bad.

“What?” Not the most intelligent response, but...

He was really, really weirded out by Slade’s admittance that he’d been testing him, and despite his own wishes, his tired mind began to wander. But the next words brought him right back to the present.

“...I’ve been searching for an apprentice. Someone to follow in my footsteps. And, Robin, I’ve chosen you.”

Oh. Fuck.

“Congratulations.”

“No way would I ever work for-” But then he remembered. The button.

Oh. _Fuck_.

“If you join me, if you swear to serve me, if you never speak to your friends again, I would allow them to live. But… if you disobey, even the smallest request, I will annihilate them, Robin. And I’ll _make you watch.”_

He froze. Even his thoughts sputtered like a broken record player, repeating the same plans and phrases, trying to find a way out, any way out-

“So, do we have a deal?”

Then, the thoughts slipped away. There was no way out.

Acceptance.

* * *

 

He doesn’t like the way the suit fits so well, like it was made for him. It probably was, which made it that much worse. But he already hates the constricting metal plates, and the scratchy texture that makes the entirety of his skin squirm. But it still fit perfectly. Such attention.

(The funny part was that Bruce had been so reluctant to let him become Robin in the first place. And then Slade had come and went to such lengths to have him. Laughable really. No one had really wanted a blind, orphaned circus kid before this)

“It looks bad now, but trust me, you’ll learn to like it,” Slade promises. “After all, you’re quite adaptable. Not many blind people can learn to be so efficient.”

He froze. His heart skipped a beat.

He knew it. Slade knew it.

Dick was afraid.

 


	13. Father

“That was incredibly stupid, Dick!” If he wasn’t so used to hearing that harsh, demeaning tone, he might’ve at least shrunk at that anger. But he just crossed his arms as his jaw set, fists clenched.

The worried tinge in Bruce’s voice was really what scared him.

“I’m fine. It’s not a big deal. Everyone lived and I’ll heal,” he says calmly, one fist moving upwards, over his heart. The words hurt, pushing against the constricting bandages on his chest. Even breathing was a chore, not that he wanted anyone to know. Bruce was making a big enough stink about one tiny little mess up.

“It is a big deal! You have three fractured and one broken rib, a punctured lung, and god knows how many superficial wounds! You’re a child, Dick. You’re _twelve._ You don’t get to make these life or death decisions. When I say no, you _don’t_ _do it_. I don’t care what you think or what you want to do. If I say it’s too dangerous, you step back and let me take care of it. End of story.”

Anger and frustration build in his throbbing chest, building and building and building, and as soon as he opens his mouth, the swelled dam of emotions overflows. “I’m not that little blind boy you saved from the circus anymore, Bruce! I can take care of myself! I’m not just some sidekick you can-can just shove aside whenever you feel like it!”

By the end of his rant, he was out of breath, but the silence afterwards confirmed that he’d at least made some sort of impression.

(He wasn’t that same helpless nine year old who could only stand there as his parents fell to their deaths. He carried that burden, that burden of listening to the crunch and splatter of their bodies hitting the ground, close to his heart. He wouldn’t be the one standing idly again. He’d save whoever needed it… or die trying.)

“You’re not as strong as you think you are Dick!” He flinched, but more from the sudden loudness than actual fear. The words echoed loudly in the batcave, settling like the calm before a storm. 

“Listen,” Bruce’s voice was quieter now, barely above a whisper. “You’re my responsibility. If something happens to you, it’s my fault. I’m the one who let you go out and do this, and I don’t want to have to carry your death with me forever.”

Just when Dick thought they’d actually had a conversation, the next words ruined it. He didn’t even get a chance to reply before Bruce continued.

“You’re benched. Not just because of your ribs either. You didn’t follow an order and you’re going to face the consequences.”

“Bruce-”

“Don’t.” Simple. Direct. And from that word alone, he knew there wasn’t anything he could do. Bruce’s mind was set, and there wasn’t anything that would change it. “Go to your room. I’ll have Alfred bring you something to eat later.”

“Fine!” he snaps, standing abruptly despite the pain he felt from such an angry action. Frustration wasn’t even a big enough word to explain what he felt. “I wanted to go there to begin with anyway!”

He stomped forward, towards the entrance into the Manor. But a final surge of rage stopped his moving feet at the door. Should he have kept going? Yes. But something desperate and furious inside wouldn’t let it go.

“You can do whatever you want, but… You’re not my father. My father’s _dead_. So stop acting like it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dick ended up doing the 'you're not my dad!!!' trope thing... probably just one fight of many. With Slade though... I think it's a memorable one.


	14. Apprentice Part II

In this moment, he wished he didn’t have almost superhuman hearing.

Hearing Starfire call his name over and over, desperately, caused his chest to ache in a way it hadn’t in a long time. Since his and Bruce’s big fight. Since he’d left in a fury, fists clenching and breath sticking in his throat. Since he’d cut off all contact and immersed himself in Jump City. The pain was like a deep, spreading frostbite, branching out from his heart into his arteries and bones and fingers, leaving his entire body cold.

He should’ve called.

Wasn’t it awful to think of Bruce now, with such similar but different circumstances? 

Slade’s bruising and violent fists were nothing like the gentle, yet infrequent touches of Bruce. Comfort wasn’t Bruce’s strong suit for sure, but just the soft fingers across his shoulder after a particularly difficult mission always helped, even just a little. He could count on one hand how many times Bruce had hugged him, but every time he’d needed it. 

Bruce hadn’t been the perfect guardian. But he’d tried his best.

Slade… Slade was something different.

He mulled over those thoughts as his feet hit the concrete, over and over, echoing footsteps of the city military close behind. It was funny (not funny at all) that they were enemies now. They never really liked Robin and the other Titans that much, but they’d tolerated their presence and allowed them to fight evil. In exchange, he gave them the criminals afterwards to be taken into custody. They’d just break out again, but that’s how the cycle went. 

He was one of those now. A criminal. Hell, he’d  _ stolen _ something. He wanted to laugh at the irony. How many would-be thieves had he stopped, both as Batman’s cheeky partner and as the stoic leader of the Titans? The lines had been so simple then. He was a good guy. A hero. Now he wasn’t. And that wasn’t simple at all.

For as long as he could, he wanted to avoid that confrontation, that confrontation that would solidify his new position in this neverending war of crime vs vigilante. 

The object in his fingers was warm, and he jumped again to avoid the energy blasts threatening life and limb. But he was too good for that, too experienced. And Slade knew that. As soon as he’d rounded the corner, he seemingly disappeared into nothing as he leaped into hiding. Disgust settled on his tongue.

Just how  _ long _ had Slade watched him? Was it even before he’d left Gotham? Had he been waiting, just waiting for him to get far enough away from Batman to put his plan into action?

Bruce probably would have seen Slade’s trap a million miles away. Maybe if he’d asked him-

No. No, because what-ifs weren’t helpful. That wasn’t the way to get out of this situation. He… He didn’t need Bruce’s help. He’d be fine.

When the sounds of the soldiers faded, he jumped down… and was immediately surrounded by his (former) teammates. 

God, he’d been dreading this moment.

“Freeze!” it’s Cyborg’s angry tone, reserved just for criminals when needed... and sometimes whoever had just beat him in a video game. There was a lump in his throat at the thought. No more of that, huh? It was hard to handle, and his mind froze. So he did the only thing he could think of. 

He ran. 

When there was no where to go, turned to finally face them.

“That’s not Slade. That’s…”

“Robin.” 

He  _ hates _ that tone, hates it and in that moment he wants to explain everything. Shout what had happened, tell them not to worry, to find a cure for the ticking time bombs in their bodies but he can’t.

“Robin, why are you-”

He can’t handle that question. Not from Starfire.  _ I’m sorry. _ At the direction of her voice he sends an explosive. It doesn’t hurt her, but sends her back a few feet. Away from danger. Away from him. The sounds of protest and confusion from the team causes that ache to deepen. Maybe if he just said something, a little hint-

Slade’s frustratingly cool voice was quick to tear him out of his thoughts.

“Not a word, Robin. They’re not your friends anymore.” Fuck. There goes that idea. But he still doesn’t want to fight them. Not yet, no matter what Slade wanted. The wind blows through his hair as they all begin to walk forward, and in that moment a panic sets in and his hand lifts. 

The section of bridge ahead of them explodes in rubble and heat, and before they can even say a word he’s gone, leaving all those words and thoughts unsaid, but a battle avoided.

Those little victories are all he can manage. Outward rebellion is their death sentence. Tiny, off script actions were his only method of sanity. He wouldn’t lose himself in this. He refused to.

Selfishly, maybe, because he couldn’t let Slade win.

* * *

 

He holds out the stolen weapon, obediently. Slade’s perfect little soldier, at least for the moment.

“Excellent, Robin. I’m pleased.” He despises how he cannot tell where the voice is coming from.  How the hell Slade did it, he didn’t know, but it wasn’t fair. “You’re already proving to be the perfect apprentice.”

“This ‘deal’ can’t last forever,” he spits out venomously. He didn’t like the praise, either. He’d craved that from Bruce (and almost never got it), but every compliment just caused another spike in his already high level of rage. He didn’t want Slade to be ‘pleased’.

“It can, and it will.”

“The Titans still have no idea that my chronoton detonator was more than a decoy. Now that my probes are inside their bodies they can remain undetected for years.. Decades.” Suddenly, footsteps broke the air, along with Slade’s voice. Now hearing Slade’s position, he turned to face the criminal mastermind, anger clenching his jaw. “Unless, of course, you disobey me, and I decide to destroy your… former friends with a push of the button.”  
“Sooner or later, you’ll let your guard down,” he replied quietly, volume increasing with each word. “I _will_ get that controller, and the instant they’re out of danger, you will _pay_.”

“That sounds like a threat, young man,” Slade replied smoothly, finally stepping forward to take the stolen weapon. It sounded too close to Bruce, something he’d say, and he wasn’t happy with it. “Quite a good threat, actually. Betrayal, destruction, revenge. We really do think alike.”

Oh, that was  _ it _ !

His reaching fingers went for the controller, but Slade simply grabbed his wrist in midair, twisted it back at an awkward angle, even for his acrobatic body. He gasped in pain, fingers twitching. Slade kept him that way as he spoke again.

“I monitored your vital signs during the mission. Elevated heart rate, adrenaline, endorphins... you won’t admit it, but on some level, you  _ enjoyed _ stealing for me. It was a thrill, wasn’t it?” With the final remark, Slade released the wrist and pushed him forward. He rubbed his throbbing joint, biting the sides of his mouth to keep from speaking, from arguing.

“You’re going to keep stealing, Robin, and you’re going to keep getting that thrill, and sooner or later, you will see things my way.” Slade walked forward, clipping that stolen weapon to the wrist he’d just bent back a moment ago. “Who knows? I might even become like a father to you.”

Silence. “I already have a father.”

Bats fluttered above his head, chattering noisily.

It was comforting.

* * *

 

Wayne Industries.

Just another indication that Slade knew his true identity… and also Batman’s. It wasn’t a nice thought. Thing was, it was something else too. Slade was trying to rub this all in Bruce’s face. Criminals had tried to do that before, and it’d never ended well. Especially when it involved someone Bruce cared about.

He wondered if that still applied now that he’d gone solo.

Well, no matter what, Bruce was going to be pissed. He just hoped it was after he somehow escaped that Bruce came to yell at him about it. At least then he could explain. Plus, Batman could wipe the floor with him if it came down to a fight, which sounded fantastic.

The building wasn’t too far from the haunt, so it didn’t take long for him to arrive and blow himself in. He’d just be in and out… hopefully before the Titans could arrive and attempt to stop him. Could he truly hurt them? No, no way… Even as Red X, he’d just incapacitated them with little pain, more inconvenienced them, really. It’d be okay. It’d be fine. He’d just get away before they could battle, just like last time…

He reached out for the small weapon (it’d been hard for him to detect for a moment, but he’d just had to pause a moment to concentrate) but then froze when four footsteps joined him in the chamber.

“You’re not walking out of here, Robin!” He turned to face Cyborg and the rest of the Titans. Leadership fit Cyborg well, it always had, and if he wasn’t the enemy, he might’ve been a little proud. Instead, dread pooled in his stomach. If he’d just been faster- “Not without a fight.”

He charged, something in between a grunt and a scream exiting his throat. Frustration. At the last moment, he jumped off Cyborg and escaped into the ceiling through a panel. His bruised lungs screamed for him to take a break, but he pushed through the pain and jumped onto the top of the building. Almost free-

“Not so fast, Robin. You’ve yet to achieve your objective.” Damn it, Slade again…

“The device was too heavily guarded,” he argued breathlessly. “I’ll just have to steal it another-”

“NO.” The answer was so decisive and forceful, for a moment he paused. “Go back. Unless you want me to destroy them, go back, and fight.” Slade wasn’t giving him a choice. He had to take them down. Another lurch in his stomach, this time the feeling interrupted by a shout.

“Robin!” Cyborg yelled. “Look, I don’t know what’s going on-”  _ Yeah, you really don’t.  _ “-but we don’t wanna fight. We just want to talk.”

_ Unfortunately that’s not an option.  _ He wished it was, but Slade wasn’t giving him options. This time when he charged, he was silent, and his kick was so hard he flew a good five feet behind the other Titans.

Beast Boy came next, having transformed into some kind of… gorilla or ape by the sound of it. That was stupid. A bigger target was easier for him to ‘see’, and avoid. It was too simple to pull him through something he couldn’t get out of.

Starfire… He avoided her and her concerned comments completely, going immediately for Raven. After exchanging a few blows with her, Cyborg joined. He was another big target, easy to dodge. However, Beast Boy caught him by surprise (he should have been focusing better) and added another hit to his already injured ribs. For a moment, he couldn’t move, but as  soon as Beast Boy approached, he knew he had to. A small pulled punch and he was away, forced away because he had to convince him he was the enemy. Even if every connected hit killed him a little internally, pushing that cold deeper inside.

“Fight to win. Use the thermal blaster.” Fuck, Slade must have seen him pulling his punches and kicks. 

He blinded Raven with a quick, small explosion after she’d trapped him. Ironic that they were on equal ground, but he didn’t waste any time going after Cyborg. A dodged canon blast and sprint later, Starfire blocked his path. 

“Stop! Do. Not. Move.”  _ Please, just go before I have to hurt you _ , he wants to say.  _ Please _ .

“I thought I told you to use that blaster.”  _ Not on her, please-  _ “Attack, now!”

Despite his wishes, he raises his arm, aiming it at her voice as it warms up. The pitch hurts his ears but all he can think of is  _ her _ .

“Robin, you are my best friend.”  _ Not now. Don’t!  _ “I cannot be in a world where we must fight. If you are truly evil, then go ahead. Do what you must.”

_ She isn’t fighting back, she isn’t even fighting back, how can I do this? I can’t _ \- his already cluttered mind runs at a hundred miles a minute, something sick and panicked rising in his throat like some demented Joker balloon.

“Starfire, no-” the words escape faster than he can bite them back, his arm lowering, and in the next moment static loudly exploded through the ear pieces. He hisses in pain. Oh. Oh shit he-

“Robin! I gave you an order. If you won’t attack, my probes will.”

Hearing them moan and scream was worse than anything he’d ever experienced, and it was  _ his fault _ .

“Starfire!” His trembling arms come to cradle her failing body.Titan by Titan, they fall, full weight, to the ground. “Stop! Please, stop!” He’d do anything-

“Attack, Robin. It’s the only way to save  them. Attack with everything you’ve  _ got! _ ” He swallows, and carefully lays Starfire on the ground.

“I’m sorry,” he says, and fires the thermal blaster.

“That’s my boy.”

He gives them a moment to stand, before he goes off. They never stood a chance.

* * *

 

The thermal blaster was destroyed, and he didn’t actually hurt any of the Titans, but Slade is pleased anyway. 

He wants to beat away that smug tone.

Maybe it was dumb to challenge Slade again, but sadly enough he knew that Slade didn’t really mind it. Beat the living shit out of him anyway, but he dealt it coldly and (most of the time) emotionlessly. Like it was just a job, something he had to do. 

Nothing personal about it.

Right now was no exception. Blood still pumping at a dangerously high rate from the fight against his friends, he swallowed back his hate and tried to focus on the fight. It was more difficult in the haunt. There were so many objects around that if he wasn’t moving or speaking, it was difficult to tell which one was Slade, not the mention the obnoxiously loud gears and scraping metal, a sound he knew would haunt him at night.

“-a few more years of training, and you might actually pose a threat.” The words were meant to get a rise out of him, probably. He just breaks off a lever. Ah, a bo staff- or in this case, broken off metal pole. Either way, he knew how to use that a lot better than any of the dangerous weapons Slade had allowed him. Even unweighted, just holding the cool pole feels like home, a perfect fit.

Of course, he doesn’t get to revel in the feeling long. 

It turned out the fucker had one of his own, an actual bo staff. Great. Fantastic.

Despite the fact he was definitely stronger than he looked, he was not as strong as Slade. Hand to hand (or staff to staff) combat ended as expected. Thrown back by Slade with a powerful shot, but at least he’d gotten in a hit too.

Little victories. 

He barely got a breath in before the battle was underway once more. How the hell did Slade move so quietly? Sure, half of it was the haunt, but no confusing battleground could cover that much movement. But it didn’t prevent everything entirely.

A lucky shot later, he felt the mask crack underneath his boot.

“You’re going to wish you hadn’t done that.” Oh, he’s pissed. Voice low, threatening. But with everything that had happened the last 48 hours… he can’t bring himself to care.

“I only wish I’d done it sooner.” He rips off the insignia, throwing it at Slade’s feet. It feels good, great even. It doesn’t help Slade’s mood, much. This time, the fists are angry, and it’s only a matter of time before Slade’s throwing him around like a rag doll.

“I have much to teach you, but the first thing you need to learn is gratitude.”

For a moment, there’s a pause in the pacing, and it’s  _ them _ he thinks about. His friends, his friends that are clueless about the dormant poison in their veins, but he knows something else. Right now, he can’t think about them. If he doesn’t focus on Slade, he’ll lose every single one. He charges right back in, his own fists bared.

Slade immediately flips him upside down by his already injured wrist, holding him to the ground, but this time, lets him go a few moments later.

“I made you my apprentice. All my knowledge, all my power, all for  _ you _ ,” Slade emphasized, this time his rough hand forcing his head to the floor. It’s cold and smooth, but it’s not at all nice. His face already hurt from the force Slade had used to simply pin him.  “...But the only thing you care about is your WORTHLESS, LITTLE FRIENDS.”

With that, Slade finally released him, and he took a quick breather before forcing his beaten body to stand. Weakness wasn’t allowed here. Now, a plan, plan-

“If the Titans are so distracting, maybe I should just get rid of them.” His heart stopped. Mind froze. He’d almost… Almost forgotten. 

Slade had the upper hand, his friends’ lives literally in his blood covered fingers, and suddenly all that anger and frustration melted away. This was for them. He couldn’t let his pride get in the way.

“Don’t.”  _ For them, and for them only... _ “I’ll do whatever you say.”

“Good boy.” Disgust swirls in his stomach again from the praise, but this time it’s mixed with acceptance… and dejection. He was stuck. Trapped. And maybe this time… He wouldn’t be able to escape.

“And… from now on, I’d like you to call me  _ Master- _ ” A sudden blast cuts Slade off and blasted him into the wall. He almost flinched from the sudden sound, but instead just froze. He knew that sound, it was-

“Leave. Him. Alone,” Starfire said. Honestly, he was so much more afraid of her than he’d ever been of Slade. Her angry… well, it never boded well.

“Robin, attack!” Slade’s commanding voice snapped him back to the present… and straight into panic mode.

“Get out of here, go!”  _ For once, let me be the self-sacrificing idiot Bruce never let me be!  _ “You don’t know what those beams did to-”

“Dude.”

“We know.”

“And we don’t care.”

“We’re your friends Robin. And we’re not leaving without you.”

Oh.  _ Oh _ .

“How very touching.” Of course Slade had to ruin the moment. “But Robin doesn’t need any friends.”

Once again, the moaning and screaming. Pain. 

“This is the price of disobedience, Robin. Now do as I command! Attack!”

But this time, they’d chosen it. They knew what would happen, but they did it anyway, for him. 

They had a choice, and they took it. And  _ he _ did too. Slade might have narrowed his options, but he couldn’t take away his choices. He was a person, a hero at heart, and as much as Slade wanted to control him, he was more than a caged bird. His mind clearer than it’d been in months, he knew what to do.

“...No.” In just a few bold strides, his hand was on the humming dome, the object of his team’s team. Despite the feeling of his nerves being burned, with both hands he held on until it blasted him away.

Through the newfound excruciating agony of being destroyed from the inside, his feet marched to Slade, step by painful step.

“New deal, Slade,” he hissed. “I lose my friends, you lose your apprentice!” Even if he did die today, right now, at least it’d be as a hero, and by the people he fought side by side with. As himself, and not Slade’s puppet. “And I know how you hate to  _ lose _ .”

As soon as he’d fallen to his knees, the pain disappeared. 

His gamble had paid off.

With his confidence returned and his team by his side, this time it was him landing most of the hits. It was less than thirty seconds of fighting that another well aimed kick, broke the mask completely. It cluttered to the ground, and somehow the echo of metal against metal wasn’t so irritating. Instantly, Slade fled. 

“Another day, Robin. Another day.” With those words, his private hell began to fall apart. Giant gears and machines began to tumble from the walls and ceiling, an alarm buzzing over and over, loud. Slade is fleeing, but it doesn’t matter. His team is the priority… like it always should have been.

“Let’s go home.”

* * *

 

Now that the probes are gone and he’s back in his uniform, in his tower, with his team, he can’t keep the smile off of his face.

He didn’t even realize how much he’d missed this happiness of normality until Beast Boy and Cyborg are excitedly yelling something about a ‘Breakfast Explosion’, dragging a regretful Raven behind.

“Everything okay?” He almost forgot Starfire was there she’d been so quiet, and his smile drops as he asks the question. He should have known that she’d be the one most affected by this. This conversation was already long overdue.

“I am sorry.” Well that caught him off guard. He expected her to be mad, maybe sad a little, but sorry?  _ I’m the one who fucked up. Big time. _

“You’re sorry? For what?”

“When things were bad, there was a moment that I truly believed that you were… like Slade.”  _ Oh _ . “I doubted you, and for that, I am sorry.”

“I doubted myself, Star,” he admitted quietly. It was time to be truthful… Even if he didn’t want to be. “Focused, serious, determined… As much as I hate to admit it, he and I are kinda alike.” He paused, letting the words sink in. That was quite a thing he was finally saying aloud. “But there’s one big difference between me and Slade. He doesn’t have any  _ friends _ .”

He took her silence as happy relief, and was then content to listen to the playful arguing of his friends in the background. A few days ago, he would have been high strung and annoyed at the noise, but right now it was nice. In that moment, he wanted nothing else.

Yeah, Slade was free. That fact alone could drive him insane. If he wanted to, he could lose himself for the millionth time over him, obsessively go over every clue in every encounter and dialogue again and again only to come up with nothing. He could push his friend’s concerned actions and words away like he had for weeks. Maybe this time they’d even give him more room because of what Slade had put him through. The funny thing was, he didn’t have any desire to do that at all.

Slade didn’t have any power over him anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you guys are interested, I now have a writing tumblr blog! The username is flyingcircusnightwing. If you ever have a question or something you want to discuss about this fanfic or any of my others, so feel free to shoot me an ask there to talk about it! I also take requests there if you have an idea bugging you :)


	15. Hindsight

Apparently the ‘I’m not afraid of Slade anymore’ memo didn’t make it entirely into his psyche.

“Damn it,” he muttered to himself as he swung his legs over the bed. His scarred bare feet padded across the cold tile floor as he moved towards the door, and after the whoosh of air of his door opening and closing, the padding again followed him to the kitchen. “Fuck nightmares. Fuck _me_.”

It wasn’t very hero-like to cuss (which was why he tried never to do so in front of the Titans or while suited up) but right now, it was two in the morning and he was an exhausted, bruised teenager who couldn’t sleep, and if he wanted to say ‘fuck’ after that and the events of the last few days, he had that _fucking right_. He barely got to be a kid as it was. He could have this moment of weakness.

Tea helped a lot. Helped his homesickness, which was surprisingly awful at times, and calmed him from almost anything. Alfred used to make tea for him constantly, after nightmares about his parents, after fights with criminals, hell, after fights with Bruce. It’d become such a comfort. He’d been pleasantly surprised when one of Raven’s tea boxes smelled (and later, he found _tasted_ ) exactly like the kind Alfred had made.

He knew where Raven’s tea stash in the kitchen is so that’s instantly where he went to. She probably knew he’d been swiping some of Alfred’s brand, but she hadn’t said anything and even started leaving the box at the front, so that was a good sign. That’s how Raven always was with friendship, however. Subtle.

Walking into the common area/kitchen, he’d known instantly that something was wrong. But it wasn’t a dangerous wrong. No, it was all too familiar. Despite his tensing body and the cotton developing in his mouth and throat, he put the kettle on the stove and took out two tea bags and two tea cups.

“Want some tea, Bruce?” he asked loudly.

Almost silently, two feet hit the ground.

* * *

 

“Is that Ashwagandha tea?” Bruce questioned politely as his cup was filled. It almost felt too polite. But with the tension palpable in the air…

“If that's what Alfred makes, then yes.” That same forced friendliness dripped from his own lips. Two could play this game. “I don't exactly read the label.”

Bruce fell silent. Maybe he felt a little bad. Good.

He took a sip from his own cup. Somehow, he figured it was more watered down than normal. This hasn't exactly been the calming, deep breathing session by himself he was hoping for.

“ _Dick.”_ There it was, the seriousness he was so used to. Bruce never ever did anything for small talk. It was always something. Bruce's cup was lowered to the table with a soft click as the man stood, and instantly the teen shot to his feet like he'd been hit by lighting.

“Look, Bruce, I don't owe you anything, I don’t care how mad you are,” he said angrily, shakily. His heartbeat thudded faster and faster. It isn't Bruce's fault, but especially after his nightmare a man nearly twice his size standing menacingly in front of him reminded him of… Something else.  “I can take care of myself. What happened at the Wayne building is never going to happen again, and I can take care of it myself, I'm not weak-”

Before he could even react, he was enveloped in a strong pair of arms and held against a warm chest. He froze, unseeing eyes widening in shock.

 _Oh_.

“Dick, I’m not... angry with you.” Bruce wasn’t even trying to hide the worry or pain in his voice. That had never happened before. For a moment, he couldn’t find his voice.

He’d fought mass murders, maniacs, almost died multiple times, broken most of the bones in his body at some point or another, gotten hypothermia, hell, survived as Slade’s own personal lap dog and punching bag, but one caring word from Bruce and he just shut down. It wasn’t fair.

“...What… What are you then?”

It was Bruce’s turn to avoid the question now. “Dick… maybe you should come home for a while. Until he’s caught it isn’t safe for you.”

Dick bristled, and Bruce released him. He stepped back, and could feel his previously shocked expression crumple into something both angry and fearful. “No way! Slade’s probably a hundred miles away from Jump by now. Besides, there’s a good chance he knows he’s on your radar, and he’s not stupid enough to come after me with you watching.”

“He’s dumb enough to mess with you in the first place.” Surprise fluttered in his chest from the darkness in his mentor’s voice. “He’s dangerous. And you shouldn’t have gotten involved.”

“I ‘shouldn’t have gotten involved’?!” God, this was why he left. “He targeted me! It’s not like I had much choice! And how do you even know that?”

Bruce sighed. “He goes by Deathstroke in Gotham. He’s a mercenary, and his reflexes and strength were enhanced artificially. He’s stronger and faster than you or I could ever be. _I_ have trouble with him, Dick. If I had known he was after you, I never would have…” He trailed off.

“Never would have what?” Dick hissed. It was very difficult to stay quiet to keep the Titans from waking. “Let me go? Because I assure you, I don’t care what you would have done, it was time for me to leave. And this, _this_ is why. I know I’m not the… ideal crime fighting partner. I was the underdog from the start. But don’t think for a _moment_ I can’t handle myself, because you weren’t there when I finally got out from Slade. My team and I got me out. I’m capable. _We’re_ capable. And I know you’re worried, Bruce, even if you never admit it for some godforsaken reason, but just let me be. I’m not your sidekick anymore.”

For a moment, everything was silent.

“...Okay.”

Wait. Wait a second. Did Bruce actually _agree_? Was this happening? He’d expected more arguing, Bruce insisting, but not just… ‘okay’.

“But one more thing… Robin. You should tell them the truth. Secrets never end well.”

Something in his stomach sank.

Long after Bruce left did Dick sit there, his fingers curled around his cold cup of tea, lost in memory until Raven put a hand on his shoulder.

“You should take a shower before everyone else wakes up,” she told him.

He simply nodded numbly as she cleaned up the tea.

* * *

 

 _When your so called ‘friends’ find out they'll throw you out like discarded trash,_ Slade had whispered after he’d put on the suit for the first time. _They don’t understand your potential like I do. No one does._

 _Not even_ **_he_ ** _did, did he?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh dear, Dick never seems to get a break, does he? At least Raven is a good bro. Also, once again, follow me at flyingcircusnightwing.tumblr.com for previews, ideas, and if you have any requests! I'd love to write something for you.


	16. Duality

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick learns at age ten that heroes and villains aren't always black and white.

"Is she a good guy or bad guy?" He's ten and the world doesn't make sense, not as much as it should to a hero-in-training.

She is more than confusing, whirling in and out of their lives in different roles. Like a villain, she effortlessly swipes expensive things without a trace, always with a smooth quip exiting her lips when they find her; she is never afraid, not of them. Though he knows she's scratched Bruce more than once to escape (Bruce thinks it isn't obvious when he's in pain, if he can't see the blood. His breathing always betrays him), she never touches the boy wonder. She's so surprisingly careful with him. Like a hero, she's even pulled him out of danger once or twice, always pretending it was for her own sake, but it's easy to hear the lie in the playfully smug words ("I can't have the big bat moping because you got hurt, can I? He's too fun to play with."). Always slipping away from Bruce's fingers, to happily steal another day, sometimes with a little goodbye wave. No remorse.

"People _,_ " Bruce had sighed,"...are more complicated than just good or evil. Most people are neither, and it is motivations that lead them to what they do, misleading or not. But some people are different from even that. Selina isn't a bad person. She isn't like Joker or Penguin. She's never killed someone, or stolen anything its owner can't live without. She's done things that are illegal, but that doesn't make her a villain. Though she has done good things, she is not comfortable being a hero. She always plays the side that benefits her the most, but she has morals."

"She has a soft spot for you though, doesn't she?" he points out with a hum, feeling the ghost outline of her fingers around his wrist, pulling him away from a bullet. "She's helped you a couple times." _Is that why she comes to parties and you pretend not to notice?_

Bruce shifts, fingers drumming against the wooden table, his quickening pace from something almost nervous. It was strange to hear. "Though she has helped me before, it was for her benefit. I doubt she would have if it was too out of her way. It's just how she is. Don't overthink it."

Even with how skilled of a liar Bruce is (and he is _very_ good), he still hears the false undercurrent in the other's tone. Dick frowned disbelievingly but kept his next thought to himself. The truth was obvious, no matter if Bruce denied it to even himself. The crackling of the fire in the corner comforted him, and he pulled the soft blanket tighter around his arms.

_She thinks she always outsmarts you to escape, but we both know you always let her go._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been a while! I've been preoccupied with school and my other fanfic, Born Not Made (which you should definitely check out). Anyway, I have decided I'm now going into the Terra episodes, but I won't be able to write anything for at least another week so here's something while you wait. And I thought that lesson fit pretty well :) Plus, well... I'm a really big fan of Selina/Bruce. At this point in Dick's life though, they aren't together yet however. Just pining after each other, which probably makes everyone frustrated. Well, I'll try to update soon. Hope you enjoyed this little snippet in the meantime.


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